Real Monsters are Afraid of the Dark
by Some Mad Person
Summary: It was pure fact that if you were born a Yato, you damn well died as one too. A story about Kagura's inner demons, Sougo's problems with dying and something between Hijikata and Gintoki that's entirely subject to personal interpretation.


**Real ****Monsters are Afraid of the Dark**

A post-Yoshiwara fic by PZ, inspired by and best read over the following:

Howie Day's _Into The Sun _and _Collide_

Eva Cassidy's _Time After Time_

Sarah McLachlan's _Last Dance_

& Death Cab for Cutie's _I Will Follow You Into the Dark_

Earth was a nesting ground, a cesspool of vices that tipped the scales where you looked and swallowed you alive where you didn't. It was a tired little place, too much water and dust and too many people who don't mean what they say; yet if anyone were to ask if she would spill her blood for it, she wouldn't have batted an eyelash.

Earth was where she came to know and develop a curious attachment to the biggest waste of breathing space that ever lived, which took the form of dead-fish eyes and unkempt hair on most days, and a steely gaze that knotted the pits of her stomach when it came to push and shove. It was also where she got to know a bespectacled, tone-deaf otaku with an annoying grasp of reality and a big-sister figure who taught her the fundamentals of the birds and the bees – namely, "if he breaks your heart, you break his private parts" – words of wisdom she executed with staunch precision, regardless of whether her heart was broken or not.

And then there was her One True Rival, whom she couldn't decide whether to beat into a pulp or well, beat into an ultra-dead pulp. Sure there were the rare few times she didn't wish him death by Anego's fried eggs, like when he psychologically tormented the kids in the park during his lunch break, or when he sometimes left behind the last dango, or half a bowl of miso soup when he knew she was crouching behind the bench where he ate, staging an ambush but giving her position away by the groan of an empty belly.

Papi visited sometimes. He smelled of fire and rain, and each time he sported a new toupee, which usually met its fate as one of Sadaharu's chew toys (although those were usually abandoned in favour of live human heads). The good thing about Papi coming over was that she got to eat a proper meal while he was around, complete with dessert and everything. That bad thing was that he reminded her of her old family, which reminded her of Mama, and of the brother she could never grow to hate, as much as she willed every fibre of her soul to.

In the end, nothing really mattered except quelling a heritage that spanned generations of carnage. She could dig into her veins until the ground ran red but it was pure fact that if you were born a Yato, you damn well died as one too.

* * *

In another world, everything rained.

It rained from the dingy pipes that crisscrossed above in a dystopian portrayal of sky; it rained from the guts of tarnished heroes and from the cracks in her engorged irises.

She hardly felt the sting of blood and salt in her eyes. In fact, she hardly felt anything but pure, unbridled euphoria, her mouth twisting into a smile that reached so far beyond her ears it gave off the impression of a manic clown.

"Kill me if you can," She shrieked, her voice anything but the girlish, candy-appled tone those who knew her on Earth were used to. Her arm jerked with the precision of a Gatling gun and the tip of her umbrella smoked in the wake of her vicious offense.

Kamui dodged her bullets with the ease of someone who was used to much more lethal and rapid ammunition, such as biochemical particles. Her movements appeared sluggish to him, even the way her mouth unleashed a barrage of taunts had an underwater quality to it. He swooped in and dealt a left hook to the side of her face, his own blasé expression failing to mask apparent disappointment.

"I would, my dear sister, but it wouldn't be fun then, would it? Not with you playing the fool like that."

Her face gnarled into something ugly and animalistic. "Don't you _dare_ call me that. _DON'T YOU EVEN DARE TALK TO ME!"_

Kamui sighed. What was it going to take to break her once and for all? He withdrew momentarily and indicated towards the pile of corpses surrounding the engine room that served as their makeshift battlefield. One of the bodies sported hair the colour of dirty snow.

Kagura screamed, the sound of her voice pounding in her ears like coagulating blood.

* * *

When she awoke, her eyes filled with tears when she realised that it was not a dream, but something of the near future.

The cupboard she slept in felt stuffy and foreboding. She tossed the covers off and padded towards the heaving lump sprawled across the centre of the room.

"Gin-chan. Hey."

Her foot was disturbingly close to his nostrils as it prodded the side of his face. The snoring grew louder.

"Wake up already, you old geezer."

More shaking, this time with burying her toes in his hair and clenching. Hard.

"_Please_." And then, "You suck, seriously."

As her footsteps stomped and faded into the distance, a single eye flickered open and stared dully at the empty spot on the rack where her shoes usually lay.

* * *

The moon was not present tonight, and she was grateful for it. Ever since she was a child there was something about its waxy, bulbous nature that appeared menacing to her, as if turning her back on it would reveal its hidden mouth and numerous sharp teeth, poised to engulf the stars and universe whole.

By the time her feet came to a stop the night air was a thousand little pinpricks on her skin. The gate before her was not unfamiliar, nor were the starched uniforms donned by the two men who flanked either side of the entrance.

Kagura veered to the right of the guarded compound and found herself facing a solid wall of six feet high, the coil of barbed wire catching the glint of a nearby streetlamp. With a scramble and a leap she landed neatly on the inside of the Shinsengumi headquarters, with nobody the wiser for it.

In the dark, everything looked the same; trees, humans or beasts. The autumn draft had seeped through the threadbare fabric of her pajamas, and she quickened her pace, passing cloistered rooms, battered patches of grass, unfinished cigarette stubs.

Hijikata rose from his mat, the hairs at the back of his neck tensing. A half-read issue of _Magical Schoolgirl Kitty-chan _was lowered guardedly onto the floor, his other hand finding solace in the hilt of his katana.

It wasn't danger he sensed, or maybe it was, but as he whipped his head around his shoji door all that remained of the ghost was a pair of rounded black shoes.

* * *

A long time ago, someone had told her to let sleeping dogs lie. She studied the dormant face before her with a curious mix of apathy and distrust before casting her gaze towards the picture-frame and incense vase in the far side of the room.

The room was rather delicate-looking for someone who identified as part-time enforcer of the law (the law being a loose construct) and full-time sadist. A small cactus plant adorned the otherwise barren study table, and his uniform lay pressed and folded by the mattress. Unconsciously she drew closer towards the gold-lined jacket. If she took a deep enough breath she could almost-

"You know, if you wanted my company so badly, all you had to do was ask."

Kagura stiffened so visibly that it brought a smirk upon his lips.

"Who the hell would want to be within seeing radius of a loser like you, anyways!" She hissed, swerving around to meet a pair of alarmingly wakeful eyes. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"I don't sleep, China. I practice seeing through my eyelids. And I suppose going to the trouble of bypassing the night sentry, sneaking into my room without getting caught by Hijikata next door _and_ attempting to steal my underwear was done in interest of something noble, like saving the world."

"I was NOT trying to steal your underwear!"

"Says the stalker who moments ago was two inches from burying her face into my clothes."

"I-am-_not_-stalking-you-godammit-" Kagura sputtered, her brain furiously debating whether to deliver an uppercut to his face or do _that_ thing Anue taught her – especially since she was so riled up her chest was beginning to hurt.

Sougo shifted to a partially-upright position on the mattress, a single hand propped against the back of his head. Whatever trace of amusement on his face had vanished.

"Seriously, Kagura. What are you doing in my room in the middle of the night?"

The flatness of his voice weighed like a drawn-out punch to her gut. Kagura's voice was suddenly very small and far-away sounding. "I don't know." And, as an afterthought, "Screw you."

There was a leaden pause in which his eyes never left hers. And then he edged backwards against the wall and raised the futon with his free arm.

"Are you going to come in or what?"

Her unwavering stare matching his own, Kagura clambered towards the space on the mattress without a word, the uncharacteristic silence suffocating them both like a glass bubble, broken only by the release of a sigh she didn't know she was holding. She curled into a fetal position, her back towards him, hands clenched and tucked close to the shuddering ache in her ribs.

They stayed like this for a while, barely touching, counting the seconds with bated breath. Even as they lay beside each other they remained in defensive stances, poised for first strike.

"…I had a bad dream." Her voice was barely a murmur.

"Well then, go tell your boss or Glasses about it. You didn't have to come here."

"I can't. They were in it too."

"Well, lucky me." Sougo deadpanned. "Just so you know, my time doesn't come cheap. Especially when it comes to listening to some prepubescent alien whine about her nightmares. "

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, and since I know you don't have the money for it, how about I let you off with punching you in the face really hard?" He grinned, bracing for an expletive-filled retort or a kick to his shins, but found his throat going dry when there was no response.

"Hey."

"…"

"Are you crying?"

"No," Kagura choked.

He held his tongue then, watching the curve of her shoulders quiver ever so slightly. He raised his left hand, momentarily unsure of what to do with it when she flipped onto her back abruptly, her eyes winced shut and glistening.

"Hey asshole," Her voice rang clearer this time. "What would you do if someone really, really _really_ important to you died?"

She felt him shift then, a discomfiting twist under the sheets.

"She already did."

Kagura felt her eyes burn with a vengeance, her heart sinking with each unspoken second that followed. She opened her mouth to apologise, then closed it again, and leaned over, pressing it awkwardly onto his lips with all the sorry she could muster in a single point of contact.

When he remained as still as a statue, she withdrew, her face burning.

In her fumbling, her toes brushed against his and she flinched, feeling as though it was more intrusive than the broken, clumsy kiss she just attempted.

"I-I'm not a very good kisser," she started.

"Neither am I," he confessed. They were now facing each other, and she could feel the rhythm of his breathing, slow and sad like the lurch of an abandoned swing set.

"I tried to follow her there," He spoke again, and she noticed how his eyes were avoiding hers. "Go off on my own, take on assignments beyond my expertise. But I guess wherever she is now currently doesn't have the space for someone like me."

"Huh," She snorted, "Even hell would spit a monster like you out if you tried."

Her candour brought a wry tug to the side of his lips. "So that means at the end of the world, it's just gonna be you and I, China."

Her little finger found his under the pillow. "Yeah. Unfortunately, I guess." And then she shifted forward again, and so did he, instinctively, until his mouth fitted over hers, and this time he moved enough to clasp her bottom lip with his teeth until her mouth fell open and their tongues met, tentatively.

It wasn't romantic, the way that they held on to one another gingerly, tasting the other's spit and smelling their scent, nor did it quell the unease that wound into her veins like a slow poison, but she sucked and chewed at his mouth with the desperation of one who was drowning in their own blood. It's not the end of the world, not yet, she recited in her head, as if turning it into a mantra was enough to defy the likes of fate or ancestry.

* * *

Hijikata stubbed out the remains of his cigarette just as he spotted the figure walking towards him, a weariness that wasn't alluded to a lack of sleep apparent in his gait.

"Come to pick up your brat already?" He didn't bother to look up even as the pair of boots came to a rest opposite his own feet.

"Nah, you guys can keep her forever. I still haven't paid off the wall she destroyed the last time she had a nightmare." Gintoki stifled a false yawn, his eyes belying all semblance of one who was disgruntled at being woken too soon.

"Just so you know, anything you wreck in this compound is state property, it'd just give me another reason to haul your sorry ass into jail."

"Admit it, you're just looking for an excuse to have something to do with my ass." Gintoki could barely keep the grin out of his voice.

Hijikata thrust him a frosty glare and considered a response that would have involved a healthy doze of bloodshed and post-mortem paperwork, but shook it away and lit another cigarette instead.

The minutes drifted unassumingly, punctuated only by the nondescript scratching of a nose that wasn't really itching.

"Bit of a moody night, eh." Gintoki spoke again, deliberating on whether to interject with another tasteless joke, a contrived insult, something to fill the stale air.

"Yeah," Hijikata grunted. "Hey-er. You wanna come in for a drink? Damned wind keeps snuffing my light out." He muttered so quickly one could barely make out the words he was saying, even above the non-existent wind he spoke of, but if there was any chance for the silver-haired samurai to taunt him for this, he passed on it and followed the other man into the paltry warmth of his room.

* * *

Morning was well into its final hour when he shifted awake.

"So China, you dream of anything this time?"

Sleep-crusted eyes met his own. "No. Did you?"

"Well, I had a terrible nightmare. I dreamt some awful monster invaded my bedroom, crawled on top on me and snored like a dying T-rex. The scariest part is, I woke up to find that it was all too true."

The knee to his gut was all the wake-up call he needed, and he flopped out of the mattress, clutching his side furiously. "Damn it, China, not before I've had my morning piss and coffee!" Grabbing a towel from his closet, he limped towards the door, yanking it aside and sending a gush of sunlight into the room.

Kagura howled and writhed into a ball under the futon. "CLOSE THE DAMNED DOOR, YOU BASTARD! I'M ALLERGIC TO THE SUN!"

"Good. I'm expecting a puddle of black goo on the sheets when I return, or something else more pleasant that whatever is currently occupying the sanctuary of my bed." She barely missed the playful lilt to his otherwise deadpan voice, and by the time she mustered the volition to drag herself to the corridor, he was already gone.

Kagura stretched her limbs, using the door frame for support. She didn't bring her umbrella with her, but grabbed his jacket and draped it over her head, making a mental note to return it the next day, but not without lacing the insides with itching powder.

She faltered in her steps upon noticing the shabby black boots lying by a pair of waraji on the veranda of the room next door. A shadow of a leer crossed her face as she hastened to find a lizard or snake to slip into the unsuspecting Yorozuya's shoes, her giggle carrying across the compound and striking a distinct chill into the hearts of all who chanced upon it.

* * *

Epilogue:

When the 7th Harusame Sqaud unleashed their first wave of attack, the warriors of Edo – from samurais to outlaws - buckled at the knees, their heads rushing to greet the stained earth. In times of war, Kamui was not one to beat around the bush, and sought his bloodlust in a matter of seconds.

As the tip of his umbrella emerged, slick and triumphant from the centre of Gintoki's back, Kagura's line of vision surged into an iridescent red, and everything went blank.

When she came to, face down and pooling from a dozen sides of her body, the only sounds she heard were the pump and shudder of her failing heart and the snap-crackle of footsteps on broken leaves and shattered bodies.

"Is he gone?" She meant to say, but all that surfaced was the gurgle of blood in her throat.

The captain of the first Shinsengumi division dropped to a kneel beside her, although it was more to do with his legs being unable to carry him further. His head felt heavy and cumbersome, and the flowers that bloomed crimson from his tattered shirt mirrored gaping cuts underneath. Her hand felt damp and cold in his own, and a gentle squeeze was all it took to reassure her that she would no longer be at the mercy of nightmares, or even dreams for the matter.

"If heaven and hell decide  
that they both are satisfied  
illuminate the 'no's on their vacancy signs  
If there's no one beside you  
when your soul embarks  
then I'll follow you into the dark"

-FIN

**Author's notes:**

Dedicated to the amazing RenjiLuvah, YOU MAKE MY OKIKAGU DAY.

For the confused, this story drew its foundations from Episode 142, in which Kagura, overtaken by her inner Yato, launched into a killing rampage that threatened to destroy even herself. I sought to explore the fears she harboured about suppressing her inner demons, all while dealing with the mutually-protective relationship she shares with Gintoki, and the inexplicable chemistry she feels with Okita.

For the very confused, YES. ROCKS FALL AND EVERYONE DIES.

P.S. As for the Hijikata/Gintoki snippet, interpret as you will!

P.P.S. Because somehow refuses to allow me to post links, anyone interested in the complementary soundtrack is free to email me for the download link.


End file.
